


and you smell so sweet (like fresh-picked daisies)

by derflohwalzer



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Baking, Cottagecore, Cute, Domestic, Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, ILY, Lesson 16 (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) Spoilers, No Romance, Other, Self-Indulgent, basically just cottagecore mc, both in the fic and irl, come one come all, no name and no pronouns, soft, this was basically just me projecting my cottagecore hyperfixation on the demon bros, unless you squint like REALLY hard, unnamed MC, you're literally amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-24 09:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derflohwalzer/pseuds/derflohwalzer
Summary: if mc's life had been cottagecore in it's purest form before they came to the devildom.
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Demon Brothers & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Demon Brothers (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	1. i love everybody because i love you.

**Author's Note:**

> this was literally just me projecting my love of cottagecore onto mc kjdsfjdgf
> 
> kinda based on my mc so uhm heads up for that :D my mc is a little bit less innocent but uhm projection is cute so :P

Sometimes, Lucifer wondered truly how innocent you could be.

You were simply the purest. You were like a little woodland fairy, flitting about and bouncing upon mushrooms and through the foliage of the Devildom as you skittered about, doing your tasks diligently and with a warm smile all the while. Your delight at seeing a tree in your room was like that of the warm sun of the human world, the sun that Lucifer remembered as golden rays and a warm embrace. You would hum as you completed your tasks and when you finished, you would beam proudly at your handiwork, and Lucifer would swear on his life that he could see the pale white sparkles surrounding your face as you preened at your hard work, bringing an innocuous light to the usually dark and enigmatic Devildom.

You were as cute as a human could be, with doll lashes framing sweet gentle eyes and fluttering against cherubic cheeks that flushed with pink. Mammon had even tried to market you as a doll to sell at one point, and Leviathan liked to have you standing next to his Ruri-chan life-sized cardboard cutout or figurines to make it feel like his collection was complete. You smelled of tea leaves and spring petals and warm sugar cookies and soft cream puffs, and the scents brought a small dosage of serotonin to Lucifer’s heart whenever you passed by. When you weren’t in your RAD uniform, you liked to dress up in pale peasant blouses, flouncy pinafore dresses, and cozy knits that Satan would gift you. You were like a forest wanderer, skipping along the trails of the Devildom as if it were a leisure stroll through the woods, wicker basket hanging off your arm as you hummed, carefree and bright. Had you been anyone else, Lucifer would have scolded you for your naivety as to walking carelessly in a world of ravenous demons, but one look in your pure, sweet eyes, and the words died on his tongue like melted snow.

You had even managed to attain the favor of the other six brothers, albeit you had no clue that you had six of the seven overlords of Hell vying for your attention and your gentle smile as you invited the Little D’s to have tea with you in your room.

Mammon would accompany you to the human world market on Wednesdays when you went to go shop for groceries and to buy little trinkets. He’d trail after your happy figure, your linen apron fluttering in the early spring breezes as you filled your basket with vegetables and meat, as well as sweet bread, milk, and sugar. At first, he’d been reluctant, trudging after you boredly because it had been his obligation to accompany you to the human world and bring you back. However, after he’d noticed you always tucking the afternoon tea menus into the pockets of your dress and buying hand painted teacups from the shop with the elderly owner more often than not, he’d questioned your motives, and you introduced him to starting collections of things that you found pleasing. Now, whenever Wednesday struck, he was pulling you along excitedly to the human realm, eager to add on to his collections of cute rings, little trinkets such as lockets and charms, and other treasures that caught his eye. You had even bought him a comical-like treasure chest for him to store his newest finds in. Every time he finished a collection, something new would catch his eye, and he’d be rushing to buy it. It was one of the perfect ways to spend leisure time with the second born. He especially loved it when you invited him to bake with you, surprisingly. He passed it off with the excuse that he could sell some of the pastries and make good money, but he found himself eagerly looking forward to you waking him up gently in the wee hours of the morning on the weekends so you two could sneak into the kitchen and bake something. Those hours were usually spent baking batches upon batches of treats, enough to satiate Beelzebub’s ravenous urges and still have enough left over for everyone else. You two would dust powdered sugar on each other’s cheeks, sharing laughs and jokes as you cleaned each other up. The treat that Mammon liked to bake with you the most was your infamous honey tarts. They tasted delicious, and they reminded him of gold, therefore combining his two favorite things — gold, and you. He loved spending time with you that way, and when you’d offered to feed him a honey tart once, he was sure that something in him short circuited.

Leviathan wasn’t as easily convinced as Mammon had been. Being someone who preferred to stay in his room, he was a lot more hesitant to allow you to visit his room, especially considering your fondness with nature and his aversion to it, as cute as you were. However, you had noticed the plants that he’d gotten just to give his limited edition porcelain Ruri-chan flower pots a purpose, and your sweet and gentle smile had twisted into a slight frown, which had caused his heart to shrink and tighten up in slight fear upon seeing your calm and loving demeanor fade, although he would deny it to this day. When you lifted the pots from their shelves, he’d tutted anxiously, warning you with rushed words to be careful. You had sighed and carefully emptied out the pots, filling them with richer soil from the farms of the human world. You had brought some flower seeds with you, and you had pulled Leviathan over from his game to help you. He couldn’t deny that the way that your soft and gentle hands guided his to tend to the flowers was something that pleased him greatly, and when the first blooms had sprouted from the soil, you had smiled before giving each bloom a small kiss on the bud, and while the sight was  _ totally _ moe, it sparked up that familiar twinge of envy in Leviathan’s heart, which he shoved down quickly in favor of seeing your beautiful smile as you kissed the blossoms. Your hands were gentle in handling both the flower pots and in squeezing his and untangling his fingers from his hair during anxiety attacks or episodes, and they were probably his favorite thing about you. They were incredibly soft, and your fingers were delicate and smelled like the light lemon pies you would bring in during gaming sessions to feed him while he played. You loved baking for him, and he loved it when you baked for him, especially when you would decorate the desserts to make them seem like they were straight out of a fantasy anime. He honestly liked sneaking peeks into the kitchen to see you baking more than he liked the desserts themselves, but he’d be damned if he ever told you that. After all, he needed the perfect dating sim route to go slow and steady, right?

Getting along with Satan was something that had come surprisingly easy to you once you got past his distrusting facade, because  _ nobody, especially not a human, could possibly be this gentle and sweet _ . When you had earned his trust, however, you two would pass the wee hours after studying by curling up before the ornate fireplace and reading together, cups of enchanted cocoa steaming next to you. You enjoyed reading with him — his presence was comfortable and warm, and more often than not, he would read to you in a silky smooth voice that you absolutely adored. When Diavolo had sent you to the human world to retrieve some of your belongings in order to make you feel more at home, one of the things you had brought back was a thick book full of fairytales and worn pages. That was the thing that had caught his eye the most, and when you’d noticed him reading not-so-subtly over your shoulder, you had shot him a gentle smile and began to read the story of Hansel and Gretel aloud to him. Of course, he didn’t understand the merit of the story, but hearing your voice reading all these fantastical stories of grandiose warriors and heartwarming romances was enough to make his heart melt. Your voice was probably his favorite thing about you — it was soothing and sweet, like a sip of his favorite tea. Earl grey, which you somehow knew already because you were a clever little pixie of a human who could read him like an open book, no pun intended. You even made it the way he liked it. He especially loved hearing you talk to his cats about mindless little things, even if he thought that they couldn’t understand you and you couldn’t understand them. Truth be told, he liked hearing you chatter to any woodland creature; when you two went to the human realm together, he noticed that you would always stop to tell the birds about your day, or strike up a friendly conversation with the bunnies who lived in the rosebushes, or tell the deer that seemed to draw towards you about Satan himself and how kind he was. You always seemed so happy to talk to them, even if they couldn’t understand you. He was becoming unsure of that, however, but he ignored it. Why dwell on that when he could watch you chatter with the frogs and ducks by the pond instead?

Asmodeus was quick to smother you with affection. How could he not? You were as cute as a button and twice as precious, and you smelled like honey and wild berries! You were simply too cute for him to resist. Almost immediately after your transfer to the House of Lamentation, he’d whisked you into his room and sat you down for an impromptu makeup session. You’d been a bit overwhelmed at the fast pace, but eventually just let it happen as you let him do your makeup. He couldn’t stop crooning at how cute you looked, both naturally and with touches of subtle but elegant makeup here and there. He had definitely taken you out to find clothes that you liked at Majolish, and he’d entertained your hobbies of collecting little trinkets by taking you to shops that sold items that you liked. In return, you gifted him little homemade pieces of jewelry you made, such as the gold necklace with flower charms and little baby buds on it that you’d given him for his birthday, or the honey earrings and bee pendant you’d made him as a thank you gift for taking you to a farmer’s market when everyone else had been busy. Picnics in the human realm were also a common occurrence with you two, and they usually ended in you two weaving flowers into each other’s hair and telling each other stories as you snacked on blueberry cheesecake and passionfruit tarts. You would bring two portable cups for the two of you, and the drink would be different every time — some days, it would be raspberry cordial for him and a berry mix for you, and other days he would get a sweet latte while you sipped on honey tea. There was never a dull moment with you two, and you loved running through grassy lavender fields with him, especially when he would catch up with you and lift you by your waist, the breeze filtering through your hair and ruffling the skirt of your dress as you let out giddy giggles that brought a blossom of warmth to his chest, right under his heart. The sun would beam down upon you two and kiss your scalps gently, and you would lean on Asmodeus’ shoulder with a contented smile, never really noticing the faint twinges of pink on his cheeks or the way he subtly pulled you closer to him.

Beelzebub, truth be told, didn’t really like you at first, although he never expressed it. You reminded him too much of Lilith, too much of her breezy laugh and gentle smile and pure demeanor, and even though he knew that you weren’t trying to replace her and that you didn’t know what had happened, it still hurt to look at you and see Lilith’s face flicker behind his eyelids. However, when the events of freeing Belphegor and you dying had occurred, Beelzebub had felt a primal desire to protect you, defend you,  _ save you _ , rip through his body like a papercut. He wanted to protect you.  _ You _ , not Lilith. So he embraced that change and tried to be a bit more friendly with you, which he found surprisingly easy. No doubt had you noticed the shift in his demeanor around you, and while it miffed you slightly that it took you dying and freeing his twin brother for it to happen, you were still happy that he didn’t seem to hate you anymore. You weren’t Lilith, he knew. And he didn’t see her when he looked at you anymore. What sealed the deal for him, however, was when you were put on cooking duty. He’d tried Solomon’s cooking before and left his plate untouched for the rest of the night, but when he came downstairs on your first night to see what you had prepared for them, he was met with a pleasant smell that had his mouth filling with drool as he trailed after the scent, right into the kitchen, like a moth drawn to a flame. Luckily, you were plating the food by the time he made it into the kitchen, and his eyes roved over a main course of sweet chickpea potato curry with halloumi and roasted cherry tomatoes, accompanied with mushrooms and sauced lamb chops. Next to the bowl of curry was a plate of strawberry beignets dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with maple syrup. You had ever so kindly offered him one —  _ one _ , mind you — and he’d been stunned at how incredible your cooking was. Needless to say, with your constant gifts to Beelzebub in the form of steamy homemade soup with toasted croutons or treacle tarts with dollops of cream, it wasn’t a surprise that he found himself adoring you and showing you more affection than any of the other brothers.

Belphegor, of course, hadn’t met you until a bit later after your transfer. Despite your frankly adorable features and demeanor, he wasn’t below deceiving you and killing you. Although he acted like he adored you and was smitten with your gentle and sweet personality, his hands still gripped your throat until what was supposed to be your final breath. However, unlike all of his other victims, something in him had shriveled up in horror upon seeing your delicate eyes wide with fear and pain. Something in him had eaten at his stomach uncomfortably when he saw the blood from your neck dripping down his nails and staining the pure white of your linen apron. His mind had been flooded with a split second tidal wave of pure shock and horror at what he had done when your fragile body ceased to move. When you came back due to Barbatos’ power, he couldn’t help but throw his arms around you desperately after he got over the tiny spark of anger in his mind. You, being the sweet and forgiving angel that you were (not literally), dismissed it, and although you were weary around him, you soon learned to lighten up and trust him again. You did slip a few times around him due to reflex, like when you’d accidentally burned your hand against the tray of pastry croissants and golden twist rolls that you’d pulled out of the oven when you turned around and he was suddenly there, sitting on the counter, towering over you. However, you found yourself warming up to him in time, and when you’d invited him to come up to your own little leafy treehouse in the mossy forest, he’d felt a bit honored that you had invited him out of all the brothers. There, you two had shared snacks and pressed your hands against the lilypads in the pond. You two had sat at the edge of the lake, looking around at the variety of mushrooms surrounding you two while your feet dipped in the water, talking about everything and nothing at all. It was just the two of you enjoying a quiet moment together, and when you two had climbed the tall tree back to the treehouse, you fell asleep with your legs loosely tangled together, listening to the sound of rain pattering the windows.

With how quickly you charmed his brothers and were able to get them to be at your every beck and call, even without the pact, Lucifer would have thought that you were an angel in disguise, or perhaps a magical being. Perhaps a pixie, or a woodland fairy, or maybe a little doll come to life.

But he was soon to find out that your charm was all natural, no magic.

It had started when you’d knocked gently on the door to his study, carrying a tray in your slightly shaking hands. Perhaps you were intimidated by him — the thought of your sweet and cheerful nature being withered by fear of him was a thought that made his chest swell with pride. Either way, you had let yourself in upon his approval, setting the tray down on the part of his desk that wasn’t swamped in paperwork.

With a small voice, you explained to him that you’d learned a bit of magic due to your time in the woods, and you had charmed the treats that you brought him — soft tea cakes with sweet glaze and your signature ‘lucky tea’; a brew of dried gold clover, lotus petals, and enchanted honey. The tea cakes were supposed to relieve pains in your muscles and bones, and the glaze was steeped in mountain snow, so it was supposed to relieve Lucifer of the burn in his body due to stress. The tea had calming properties, as well as being charmed to grant the consumer good luck for a short amount of time. You said that you hoped it would help Lucifer breeze through the paperwork stacked on his desk. He hadn’t reacted much other than a slow eyebrow raise, a nod of thanks, and a dismissal. You bowed at the waist and scampered off, clutching the hem of your apron anxiously.

Most of your other interactions had been more lighthearted, like when he’d swiped a small dollop of ganache from where you were baking molten lava cakes. He’d used his finger to smudge the chocolate across your nose, and you blinked, snapping out of your baking trance, before giggling slightly and wiping it off with your thumb, sucking the sweet concoction off of your finger. Lucifer had followed the motion with his eyes and briefly wondered what else he could get away with, if only to elicit those soft little reactions from you.

He also noticed that you never reacted the way anyone else would have when Asmodeus made a dirty joke, or when Mammon nudged you into the more scandalous clothing sections of Majolish. When you heard those comments from Asmodeus, you simply blinked and voiced your confusion. When Mammon tried to get you to dress in skimpy leather or latex, you frowned slightly and said that the clothing wasn’t really your type before opting to go over to the sections you usually shopped in.

Later, he learned that you had grown up alone, with only the woods and your otherworldly connection with nature keeping you alive. You had only started interacting with others at the ripe age of eight years old — before that, you lived amongst the small creatures of the forest, feeding off of the foods they brought you, as if they were your family. Perhaps they were. You spent most of your life building shelters for yourself, until you were old enough and experienced enough to begin building your own cottage. It was a quaint little stone cottage, nothing fancy, and it was humble and hidden away, and you absolutely loved it. You had spent most of your life in it, baking tarts and pastries with the ingredients you bought from the merchants in your village in exchange for rare mushrooms, seeds, and plants with healing properties that you seemed to have a sixth sense for finding. Most of your life had been spent frolicking in the woods, swimming in the lake and snacking on pastries of your own creation and chatting with the woodland creatures you encountered. You were a creature of the forest, a creature of flower scented skin and a honey voice.

What an innocent being you were, Lucifer mused over a cup of your lucky tea. The teacup, he noticed, was one of your favorites, the porcelain one with the gold rim and the hand painted floral design. Briefly, he wondered how you found the time to collect all of these things, all while pulling together so many gifts for him and his brothers  _ and _ still miraculously completing each of your tasks with perfect marks.

His eyes flickered to the plate on the same tray — hand carved and painted by you yourself, and he was the only one who got this privilege; honestly, it was going to make his heart combust — that the tea had come on, the circular dish scattered in crumbs and smears of cream and jam from your latest impulse baking session; heart shaped waffles with cream and raspberry puree. Of course, Beelzebub had immediately poked his head into the kitchen at the smell of fresh fruit and waffles, but you had managed to hide some from his hungry eye — just enough to give to the rest of the brothers. Of course, you had taken the liberty of drawing a little panda bear on one of the two waffles you’d given him, using chocolate and cream, because he was special to you, he knew he was, and because he was special, you gave him special treatment. Just the thought of it brought a prideful smile to his face, lips twisted somewhat informally.

Perhaps he’d made the right choice in sneakily slipping your folder away for future reference during the selection process of the exchange students.

But nobody needed to know that but him.


	2. i don't need the city and i don't need proof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter for the undateables! enjoy :D

The demon brothers weren’t the only people who had become attached to you during your stay in the Devildom.

The first person besides the brothers who had taken a liking to you was none other than Lord Diavolo himself. Upon seeing you in all of your timid and soft glory, with the scent of light perfume and tea leaves trailing after you and the illusion of roses blooming under your skin from how pink your cute cheeks were, he’d immediately decided that he liked you, chuckling and commenting on how there couldn’t possibly a human cuter than you upon your arrival to the Devildom. You had flushed at this, ducking your head down, doll lashes obscuring your sweet eyes, panicked and flustered and unsure how to respond.

However, after your initial awkwardness around Diavolo, you realized that he was absolutely marvelous as a companion and a friend.

Diavolo was a kindred spirit to you, in a sense — the woodland animals (if you could call them that) of the Devildom seemed to flock to him like he was a cartoon princess, and he was as sweet, gentle, and caring as an angel would be. However, you had noticed that he wasn’t very in touch with nature; seldom did he ever go outside for any reason other than getting from place to place, and the only person besides you who ventured into the castle gardens was Barbatos, the stoic butler. He had felt no need to explore nature, and that did confuse you a bit and make it harder for you to communicate with him, but you dismissed it, as you did with everyone who didn’t really like to be in touch with nature as much as you did.

But one day, when you were spending time lounging in the gardens with a good book and a warm cup of lavender tea, you were pleasantly surprised to see him walk through the ornate door. He’d walked over to you, his nervous demeanor and fidgety fingers an accursed opposition to his status as the future ruler of the Devildom. However, you had sat up, dusted the crumbs of your strawberry thumbprint cookies off of your flowy skirt, and invited him to sit with you, your gentle and sweet smile an invitation that he simply couldn’t refuse. When you had asked him why he was in the gardens, he confessed with an air of nervousness that he’d been looking for you, simply because your demeanor and your aura was one that he felt immense comfort and relaxation in. You had felt flattered at this, of course, but you laughed lightly at his wording. You explained to him that the soothing feeling he had around you was one that came when one was especially connected to nature. Nature was something that served as a bridge between man and the world, and your extraordinary connection to it had enchanted your energies and made you somewhat of a docile force of nature. In order to feel this more often, even when you weren’t around, you explained calmly as you offered him a few of your cookies, he should form a deeper connection with nature.

You had taken his hand in your smaller one to take him up to your cottage in the human world, the calluses on his hands reminding you of the sun baked river pebbles you had collected and stored in a mason jar on your shelf, and he’d been glancing around like an excited puppy upon your arrival into the forest, pointing out the moss climbing up the tall trunks of your friends, the trees, and the vibrant color of your sisters, the wildflowers. He’d been generous in talking about how beautiful your brothers and sisters, the mushrooms and the flowers, were, and you could feel them all blushing under his immense praise. You yourself couldn’t stop your smile as you took him to your cottage. After spending some time in the sunlit kitchen, you baking while he talked about how lovely the forest was, you two left the cottage and made your way down a winding cobblestone path that you seemed to know like the back of your hand, making way to a stretching meadow covered in wildflowers and lush grass. Trees arched overhead, filtering a crystal blue sky. You two chewed on the huge warm croissants you’d made not five minutes ago, hands intertwined as you strolled through the meadow. The bumblebees and ladybugs seemed to notice your presence and buzzed over to you, and he had let out a small exclamation of delight when one landed on your nose briefly, as if giving you a small kiss. He’d leaned over and given you a kiss where the ladybug had landed, right on the tip of your nose, and said that he’d read that ladybugs granted good luck, so maybe he could enhance that. You had flushed a pale pink and laughed lightly, amused. You two had strolled together for a while, basking in each other’s presence and just being in the moment, before he was summoned back for an urgent last minute student council meeting. He, albeit reluctantly, had finished the last of his croissant and beckoned you to follow him into the portal that Barbatos had summoned, promising to do this again with you sometime. You, with your saccharine smile and understanding eyes, had nodded and told him that you would hold him to it. Nowadays, you would leave a few croissants at his doorstep in a hand woven wicker basket with a purple ribbon on the handle, a letter attached to the basket with a thin string, and he would always write you a thank you letter, accompanied by a gift that he saw you eyeing in the store windows at the human world market that you frequented. He remembered that you much preferred letters to texting, much to your silent but sweet delight, and he was more than willing to write to you whenever the mood struck.

Barbatos had found himself rather amused at your delicate presence, your enchanting yet gentle aura reminding him of a fragile fairy flitting about, sleeping among the grasses and lounging in seashells, combing your hair. However, one day, you had managed to startle him slightly when you asked him if he wanted to accompany you to the human world. You explained that before you had been sent down to the Devildom, there was a tea garden that you would visit often, hidden away from most and becoming a haven for any traveler lucky enough to stumble upon it. Sometimes, the nymphs hailing from the twisting stream a few strides away from your cottage would walk in, all giggles and breezy laughs as they snacked on biscuits and rosepetal honey, their silky gowns dripping water across the floor. Other days, you would walk in to find the ram-horned general that guarded the fairy queen’s throne chewing on cute heart shaped jam cookies, dressed in his full suit of armor, or the white hare with five leverets around her, always dressed in a lacy blouse and two blue bows, chewing on her macarons with a wistful grace as she spoke gently about her children. Sometimes, you would start a conversation with the stren old man with skin like the bark of a tree who ordered a glass of wine and lemon bars every time, or the butterfly winged flower dwellers would pull you over to share gossip. You enjoyed the company you found there, and you wanted to share the joy and domesticity you felt with Barbatos, who seemed too cold and pent up to truly feel known, seen, loved. So when you walked with him through the portal and down the silver path only revealed under the luminous moonlight, you found your fingers intertwining with his as you walked, talking idly about your experience in the Devildom. He didn’t react much to the small action, but the white cat with piercing blue eyes who you fed a handful of blueberries one time whispers to you from a tree branch above, saying that Barbatos is enjoying himself. You smile at the feline’s words and squeeze Barbatos’ hand as you make your way into the tea garden. You take a seat by the window, pulling out his seat for him as you smile softly. The owner, a witch with feathers in her hair and a strange likeness to the portrait of a grand dame from the 1700s that nobody really questions and a necklace that dangles with a family jewel that she doesn’t speak of, approaches your table with her kind smile and her wooden tray already holding your usual order; a slice of strawberry rose cake enchanted with the sweet sugary dust that the pixies left behind as their wings shedded, and a glass of a light sparkling drink that shimmered a faint purple and tasted like springtime. One look at Barbatos, and she seemed to know exactly what he wanted. She soon arrived back to your table with a matcha latte in a dark cyan mug with a pawprint pattern and a slice of her signature cinnamon pie. He had thanked her politely, and she had huffed and told him to relax a bit more with a motherly smile before turning to serve others, long black robes floating off the ground slightly as she walked. After you two had finished your food and left, he admitted that he’d enjoyed spending time with you, and that he’d take you here again soon, if only to both see your gentle smile and to honor the promise he’d made to the small frog that held a tiny guitar and sat on the windowsill who he’d become acquainted with.

Spending time with those living in Purgatory Hall turned out to be quite an experience. They had naturally been drawn in by your gentle angel-like appearance, but when they found out you had a sweet personality and a shimmering smile to match, they were quick to show you welcome and adoration.

Solomon was fond of you, mostly because of the magic you harbored within you. You were a mysterious entity, a being whose magical abilities seemed far too powerful for someone as docile and innocent as you, but his little theory was quickly disproven once he voiced it to you and you spoke angrily to him about how you were  _ not _ some tame little porcelain doll before you dumped your basket of baguettes on his head out of anger and stomped away with a huff, fingers holding up the flowy skirts of your favorite sundress with a vice grip. You later apologized for your actions, and he dismissed it with an air of nonchalance, although the crumbs in his hair and the wrinkles on your skirt were proof that he shouldn’t call you innocent or docile, even if he still harbored those thoughts somewhere in his head. After the incident, you two had proven to be rather good friends, showing off magic to each other during free periods. He would show you runes and spells that he could perform, and you would watch in awe as he covered a room in sparkling lights or turned someone’s figure into a marigold orange or a baby pink. You seemed to like the sparkly and showy spells more, but anytime he performed his spells outdoors, you would let out a yelp and quickly check on the plants and soil nearby to see if they were harmed by the magical properties of his spells. He would always assure you that no, his spells couldn’t harm the nature of any of the three realms unless he willed it to, but you were still anxious about it, always fretting over the fallen leaves and the grassy fields that he demonstrated on. In return, you showed him how to enchant your baked goods and items that you collected. You had been given a jar of honey and a porcelain teacup as an inheritance from the last fairy queen, who tragically passed on “under strange circumstances”, and a lone wizard no older than you who had drank by himself in the corner during the wake of the fairy queen’s funeral showed you how to enchant it, as well as a few other spells. When you had asked him why, he said that he was going to pass soon of an unknown heretic condition, and that he might as well give up his knowledge to another person who seemed so gentle and beautiful. After speaking with him some more, you had made yourself tea after the funeral and added the rich wildflower-infused honey to it, and when you had drank from the gold-rimmed teacup decorated with birds and blossoms, your singing had become sweet and enchanting, able to cause beasts to fall into deep slumbers and flowers to bloom all around you, the tides rising and falling at your command. When you had sang for him one time, it was in the forest while you two were looking for herbs with magical properties — he was looking for the bark of a blackthorn tree and shining willow for a potion he hadn’t tried yet while you searched for juniper berries and ginseng roots to enchant your pastries. He was enamored with your voice, and although the magical properties that had graced your chords had no effect on him, he was still charmed by your song and softly asked for an encore, which you did with flushed cheeks. All in all, you were lovely company to him, and he liked being around you, if only to hear your gentle voice again.

Simeon enjoyed the moments he got to spend with you. Like you, he was more in touch with nature than technology, but you often found yourself showing him how to fix the simpler functions on his D.D.D, such as the caps lock or the brightness or the volume. You two would often travel to the human world to frolic in the golden fields near your cottage, or you would spend time on the roof of said cottage with him, writing flowery poetry to read to the moon from the cottage window. You both were good at writing, but you could hone in on the littlest details about a person or a setting, while he tended to focus more on prose and plot. Solomon had joked that you and him should write a book together someday and that it would sell for eons across the three realms, unaware of the fact that you two absolutely loved writing together under the speckling moonlight. While he could whisper his words to his delicate gold-trim paper and charm it to write whatever he said in fine print, you preferred writing on your worn parchment with a fluffy white quill pen. He would take the opportunity of his free hands to place one atop your hand that wasn’t writing, and you would halt your writing briefly before continuing with flushed cheeks that were clear as day under the moon’s sweet smile. He would always chuckle at you before turning his face back to admiring the radiant celestial being in the sky, but whenever you paused to glance up at him, enthralled by his otherworldly beauty, he would turn back to you as if he could see you without looking at you, and he would give you a little wink. Often, the night would end in you two quietly reading to each other and the moon, voices soft and gentle as you curled up in his arms, skin brushing against each other every now and then, causing a slight shiver to run up your spine and arms, to which he would chuckle lightly. Sometimes, if you two arrived early, you would spend the time picking berries and fruits with him in the forest, and you would snack on them while you wrote. The juices of the sweet foods would stain the parchment most of the time, and they would imprint a sweet scent into the papers. Other times, if you were lucky enough to get to the human realm even earlier, you would take the berries and fruits that had been collected, and you would bake biscuits and tarts with him, sharing them with him and having him feed pieces of them to you on the cozy porch of your cottage while you wrote. Your voice was a heavenly idyllic thing that he treasured, wanted to pluck a piece of and keep in a little glass box, just to have a small piece of you wherever he went. You were someone he adored dearly, and he wanted to be the cause of that innocuous twinkle in your eye, wanted to be the catalyst of that gentle smile you wore like a second skin, always brightening the world around you, natural and beautiful and serene as could be. Or perhaps you wore it as a cloak, a mask to conceal your inner turmoils and sufferings, your deepest pains and fears. Oh, how it pained him to see your broken expression when people mercilessly killed off acres and acres of the forests for their own selfish gain, or when someone pushed you away in disgust and told you that you were nothing more than a horrid blot on the imperfect world. You looked so broken when you cried, and it was a heart wrenching sight that only fueled his want, his desperate  _ need _ to take your cherubic cheeks in his slender hands, to kiss your eyelids and the crown of your head and hold you gently, sweetly to his chest, to whisper soft reassurances to you and be your pillar of support. No amount of eloquently woven words could express how much you meant to him, and he was willing to wipe away all of your tears and kiss your eyelids and the crown of your head until his lips went numb if it meant that he saw that broken expression one moment less.

Luke absolutely adored you. You were so cute and sweet, and you smelled like sunshine and flowers, and not only did you never call him ‘Fido’ or ‘chihuahua’, but you actually stood up to the brothers and told them (albeit rather gently) to stop when they compared him to a dog or they barked at him in that stupid condescending tone! He was one hundred percent certain that you were an angel of some sort, and he would do anything to keep your sweet and pure presence around him. He would latch onto your side possessively when you two walked together between classes, holding your index and middle finger with his hand while he sent out the most intimidating glare he could muster to any demon who dared to so much as look at you funny, as opposed to the sweet smile you would offer to anyone who locked eyes with you for more than a second. You supposed that, given his appearance, his “most intimidating glare” wasn’t very intimidating — the demons he narrowed his eyes at probably saw his glare and his refusal to leave your side as him hiding behind you, glancing and staring warily at the demons in fear. You were too nice and sweet to be hanging around “those scummy, horrifying, lowest of the low demons”, according to him, and he was dead set on keeping you from being “corrupted and brought down to be tormented more by those selfish creatures”. You would simply laugh your kind and airy laugh before squeezing his hand gently as best you could and reassuring him that you could protect yourself, but you would always fall back on a powerful angel like Luke, to which he preened at the praise and declared that he would always protect you. He was always in awe of you, from your ethereal deity-like appearance of gentle smiles and long flowy dresses and the scent of honey and perfection, to your connection to nature and the way the rocks and the spindly trees seemed to be your brothers, the moon your mother and the wildflowers and rushing stream your sisters, no matter the realm. You were like an otherworldly spirit of the woods, and your grandiose stories and elegant tales of the fairy queen with huge pearlescent wings and her beautiful kingdom always made him visualize you as the sweet and loving fairy queen. One thing he would always put away time for was baking with you. Once he learned that you could bake since you were a child, he was quick to drag you to Purgatory Hall, pulling you into the kitchen and begging you to bake something with him. You had laughed, light and breezy, and calmed him down with a few reassuring head pats before looking through the kitchen cabinets to see if you could find any ingredients that you were familiar with. You found the necessities after a while and nodded for him to join you, his arms full of Celestial Realm ingredients that Simeon had brought down for him. You two baked together, chattering amongst yourselves animatedly as you filled the kitchen with a sweet scent that you’d never smelled before. You were more than happy to talk to him about anything his little heart desired to ramble on about, from his duties as an angel to his favorite treats to bake. You had ended up making your famous ‘night sky’ blueberry and lemon pie that animals from all over the forest would flock to your cottage to have a piece of, as well as glazed lavender honey cookies, complete with a small mason jar of your favorite jam when you were a child, the strawberry and lemon ‘Aphrodite’s Love Jam’. He, in turn, had made what was called Moon Rabbit Cookies in the Celestial Realm, which were dolloped with a shimmery cream and dusted with a pearlescent sugar-like substance that seemed to glow under the lighting of the kitchen lamps, along with the Selcouth Cakes that he’d perfected only recently. They seemed to shift from peachy orange to baby pink to a myriad of other colors, and he explained that the flavors were unknown and depended solely on the consumer’s energies and ethereal aura. When you had tried the small mug-sized cakes, the taste of mint and steeped mountain snow had cooled your tongue and relieved you of the drops of perspiration that had formed on your forehead during the baking session. Another bite had the taste of strawberries and brown buttercream melting in your mouth and causing you to let out a soft him of nostalgia. He’d tried your cookies with a small spoon of jam and had exclaimed in delight, mouth still full, and immediately swallowed his bite and yelled for Simeon and Solomon to get into the kitchen and try your baking. They’d all joined you, and you all had had fun spending time together and snacking on baked goods, but only you caught the small beaming smile that Luke shot you, and only he saw the sweet and gentle smile that you had returned it with, the faintest trace of pomegranate juice on the corner of his mouth. That moment was when he’d sworn to be your one and only Guardian Angel, here and thus.

You had somehow managed to worm your way into the hearts of not only seven of some of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, but you had also managed to befriend the future ruler of hell, his butler, two angels, and an all powerful sorcerer king with over seventy two demons at his beck and call. You enjoyed their company, naive and sweet and oblivious to the way they would glare harshly at anybody who looked at you wrong or tried to touch you in any way that seemed unfriendly. No, you would go on about your day with a sweet idyllic smile, unaware of the trails of blood your protectors left behind you.

It was almost ironic — the most destructive catalyst in the Devildom wore a long flowy summerdress and a kind smile wherever they went.

You truly were something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed!! :D

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! let me know if this should be a series surrounding different aesthetics or concepts :D
> 
> tumblr: starryasmo  
> come yell at me on tumblr!!!


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